


Lady of the Faire

by 3rdstarksistr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Sansa, Present Day Westeros, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdstarksistr/pseuds/3rdstarksistr
Summary: Sansa Stark joins her family to travel with the Baratheon’s Westeros Renaissance Faire for the summer. Sansan ensues ;)





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa twirls a dandelion in her hand before tucking it behind her ear and smiling up at the bright blue sky as she makes her way to the stable. This is going to be the most splendid summer. Father’s good friend, Robert Baratheon, has finally convinced him to join with the southern Renaissance Faire and travel through Westeros this summer. We will travel all the way to Dorne!

The Stark family has a long tradition of performing throughout the North every summer, as her father likes to remind them, and she has embraced the cultural traditions there. Still, the thought of seeing knights joust and the king and queen hold court has always fascinated her. She’s even been practicing old songs from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms since her father had told them the news, not to mention sew new dresses in the southron style. The family had made it to King’s Landing the day before and had been setting up for the kickoff fair there in the capitol.

Having tired of watching her brothers, Robb and Jon, practice their sword-fighting for the tourney tomorrow, she left her friend, Jeyne, who seems to never tire of it, and headed to the stables. She isn’t a very good rider, unlike her older brothers and even her sister, Arya, but something about the beautiful, large animals always appealed to her. She’s sad Father decided Uncle Benjen would keep their wolves for the summer. Lady, hers, had been so sad when she said goodbye.

Reaching the stables, Sansa stepped inside, finding a bag of oats and grabbing a handful, hoping to feed her brothers’ horses. She hears the kick of a stall and heads towards it to find the head of a horse swing out with a flustered neigh, making her take a step back and drop the oats in her hand. She looks up, her eyes going wide at the enormous black horse bobbing its head at her with clear annoyance.

“Girl, careful,” she hears a harsh voice to her side and turns, having to look up again at the impressively tall man before her. Her eyes stay wide as they fix on the scars covering half his face. Burns, she realizes with a shiver. “Take your look,” he says sharply, and the realization that she was staring vexes Sansa and she looks away quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she gets out.

“Save it,” he says roughly. “Now, don’t get near this horse. He’s meaner than me.”

“What’s his name?” She asks blankly, taking a further step back as she eyes the horse.

“Stranger.” She glances at the man, but the challenge in his eyes intimidates her and she looks away again. The man walks up to the horse and begins to calm him, muttering soft words she can’t make out. She wonders if the horse was always named after the Stranger of the Seven or if he just earned it. Probably the later, but this man seems to have him well in hand.

She feels she’s intruding now, but she asks, “What do you do here, sir?”

“Save yours sirs, too, girl. I tend the horses, figure that.”

“Oh.”

He turns to her, that challenge in his eyes again making her unable to hold his gaze. “And what do you do here?” The mocking nature of his tone all too clear.

She’s reminded of her poise and stands a little straighter, telling him, “I perform songs and demonstrate my needlework.”

“Aren’t you a proper little lady?” He laughs. “What songs will that be? The Bear and the Maiden Fair?”

“I can perform that song,” she says, a crowd favorite but not hers. She appreciates his at least knowledge of Renaissance song even if he highlights one of the more bawdy variety.

He laughs again. “What’s so funny, old dog?” Another voice distinguishes itself as a tall, blond-headed man steps into the stables. Joffrey, Sansa smiles, he’s more handsome than ever, she admits to herself.

The only response from the scarred man is a deeper scowl. Joffrey says, “You’ve frightened my lady, have you?” Sansa could melt right there into those words at hearing him call her “my lady.” He then pulls out the crossbow strapped to his back, surprising her, “Would you like to see me use my crossbow, Sansa? It is good I found you.”

“Yes,” she smiles, the only answer she can seem to muster. The scarred man snorts and walks out.

“Come along then,” Joffrey says, heading out of the stables. “I was going to take my horse for a ride but will have to wait till tomorrow.”

“Oh, you have a horse?”

“Of course, I do. I’m the crown prince.” She smiles, he says it as though he’s prince of all the Seven Kingdoms in truth.

“You do the joust then? I so look forward—”

“Jousting is done. Archery is much more interesting.” He says, then looks at her pointedly, “Don’t you think so?”

Sansa opens her mouth, not sure what to say. “I find both equally interesting,” she settles for.

Joffrey doesn’t respond, so Sansa brings up, “I’m moving to King’s Landing this fall to start college. I’m so excited.”

“You are?” He looks over at her a little closer.

“You know, get out of the North and everything.”

“I don’t know how anyone stands it up there.” Her brows pinch at Joffrey’s comment, but then he stops, looking up the path.

“What is it?” She asks.

He’s already cocking his crossbow as she looks up to see a number of pigeons along the path and on a bench. “Please don’t,” she says, touching his arm as he releases the crossbow, the bolt digging into the ground instead.

He turns to her, eyes bulging and face red, “What are you doing? I was showing you the crossbow.”

“But the birds,” she says.

“They’re just stupid pigeons,” he says, clearly incredulous at her. He turns back then and stalks away.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?”

"I'm sorry, Joffrey, you're right. That was stupid of me." She calls, starting after him.

He turns then, waiting for her, "Come along, Sansa, then."

That evening Sansa sits around the fire with her family, making camp, something she remembers since she was a little girl. 

"I got marshmallows!" Arya calls out before plopping down between her and Robb. 

"Yes," says Rickon in victory, and Mother pulls out the skewers and starts handing them around. 

"Where have you been, young lady?" Her mother asks Arya. 

"Just went to the store with some cool people I met."

"And who are these people?"

"Hot Pie and Gendry."

"Boys?" her mother looks at her pointedly. 

"All my friends are boys," Arya says. It's true, Sansa raises her eyebrows.

"Tone, Arya," their father says. "Now I have to go make sure everything's in order for tomorrow." 

"I saw Joffrey today. He says he does archery, Arya," Sansa mentions.

Arya makes a face to cause the boys to laugh. "Don't need you to remind me, Sansa. I already had to deal with him and that ridiculous crossbow of his today. I challenged him to beat me at short bows, but he's so beyond that," she says sarcastically, making the boys laugh further.

"But he plays the prince," Sansa says.

"May be the only thing he's good at," Jon says, and Arya cackles. Could she at least try to be ladylike?

"Do not speak ill of the Baratheon's, who have been so kind as to let us join their company," Mother says. Her siblings exchange glances but stay quiet. Sansa blows on her marshmallow that unfortunately caught flame before pulling the sticky mess from the skewer and biting into the roasted, gooey mess. This is the best, she has to admit and goes for another one. 

"Are you nervous about tomorrow, Robb and Jon?" Sansa asks.

"Shouldn't be too different." Robb answers. "We have to play second to the joust, of course, but we'll get to show our horsemanship and trade blades with some of the other knights."

"I don't know why Dad continues to not let me ride. I'm better than both of you." Arya spits out her constant complaint. Sansa rolls her eyes for the hundredth time before she feels something hot against her face, then Arya's telltale cackle.

"Arya!" Sansa cries out, reaching up to find the sticky roasted marshmallow on her cheek.

"I saw you, sister," Arya laughs.

"Apologize this instant, Arya Stark!" Her mother gets up. 

"Can't you grow up!" Sansa yells at her sister. 

"Arya." She hears Jon say, and then Arya sighs and utters a pathetic, "Sorry."

Arya gets up to leave, and her mother says, "You are going nowhere, young lady. In your tent." The one she shares with me, Sansa thinks with glee. Sarcastic of course. At least Joffrey didn't see what her sister did. Her mother helps her clean up, and all the boys scatter.

"How was Joffrey? He seems like a fine, young man." Her mother asks.

"He's well, I believe. We walked for a bit." Sansa still wasn't sure what to think of her time with him. He had seemed fine on their walk back. She even got to meet his friends, Meryn and Boros, and exchange numbers before he said goodbye. 

Her mother sighs, "Well, I was shocked to hear there would be belly dancers at this fair."

"Belly dancers?" Sansa reacts, not sure what to think. 

"I know. What does that have to do with the Renaissance I asked your father. He did not have an answer for me." 

"Maybe there's a reason." Sansa says, curious. She could never, but it may be fun to watch. 

"Feel free to roam the fair tomorrow between your performances, dear. I'll be fine at the booth, sewing away."

"Are you sure?" 

"Quite," Her mother smiles at her. "What are you looking forward to most? The knights!"

Sansa blushes a little, admitting, "Yes."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day of the Faire

She never sleeps well in these tents, so Sansa isn't surprised to wake early. She'd decided to sleep in one of the period shifts she'd made for under her dresses, and the feel puts a smile on her face. Today she will be Lady Sansa in her fine Renaissance dress. 

She checks her phone to see how terribly early it is, dawn's not far off. The thought enters her mind that she never got to pet their horses yesterday, and that man might not be there at this hour. It isn't far. She decides to dress quickly, slipping into one of the wrapping dresses – she'll fix it up more later. 

Slipping into the stable, she takes some oats and goes to Robb's horse, Warden. He nibbles eagerly against her palm, making her smile. She then finds a brush and slips into the stall to brush out his coat. Might as well practice singing. The early morn has a somber feel to it, so she decides on Jenny's Song, humming the melody until the lyrics flow from her. Jenny of Oldstones. She always loved the thought of the Prince of Dragonflies, how could one not fall in love? And then all the mystery at Summerhall. Poor Jenny.

Sansa was mid-verse when she heard a board creak above her. It stopped so she paid it no mind and continued on. When she was done with Warden, she decided to go to Jon’s horse, Raven, in the next stall over but stopped as she heard another creak. That’s when she saw the ladder and the feet coming down from it. Oh my! She went to put the brush away and escape, but she turned to see the man from yesterday.

“I’m sorry,” she burst out.

He leaned against one of the posts, “Not everyday I get woken up by singing, little bird.” His lip twitched, and she can see the amusement in his eyes. Little bird?

“I’m ever so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t or do I scare you that much?” His amusement turning into that challenging glint his eyes get. It makes her own eyes flit away.

“No, I’m not. I'm sorry."

"Then don't let me interrupt you." She looks back at the brush she just put up. "Go on," he says.

"Okay," she grabs it and turns back to see him looking her over.

"Already in costume," he says, a slight smirk to his lips. 

"I hate to think of it as a costume. It's period dress. This is what women wore." 

His eyebrows rise and he seems about to say something but must think better of it. 

"I'm Sansa," she says in the awkwardness, feeling it only proper they should introduce themselves, and she holds out her hand.

He surprises her by not shaking it, rather taking it from the bottom and holding it in his. Like she’s a real lady. 

"Hound."

"Hound?"

"That is how I'm known around here."

"Surely that is not your name."

"Sandor then." She tries to hold his challenging gaze, though he luckily breaks it before she falters by looking down at their hands. She feels his thumb run over the back of her hand before he releases it. 

"Guess I ought to change into a tunic then." His sardonic tone bringing a smile to her lips. He looks at her a second then before heading back up to where he must stay. 

She heads to Raven's stall, only humming this time as she brushes him out. She's just finishing when she notices Sandor bringing the day's hay. 

"Thank you," she says, and he just looks at her for a second before continuing on. 

She puts up the brush and hears him, "You ride one of these, girl?"

"Oh no, I'm not the rider in the family."

"Why not?"

"Uh..." she doesn't have a ready answer. She never really gave it much thought. Arya always said she didn't have it in her.

He carries on feeding the horses, so she settles for, "Have a good day," and heads back to her family.

She puts on her light corset to wear for the day and then rewraps the purple silk dress around her. She's done a ridiculous amount of embroidery into it. Mother says the dress would be worth a small fortune. She loves the fluttering long sleeves the best. A few pieces of jewelry, then Sansa starts on her hair, braiding it and pinning it around her head, then two braids falling on either side of her neck. It's much more elaborate than anything she did in the North, but it is her first day at the ren faire here in the South. 

"Oh Sansa, you look beautiful," her mother says when she joins her.

"Thanks, Mother. You do, too."

"Oh, this old thing." 

"I told you that I could help you make a new one." 

"Like I'd want to take away from your work on your own. It's best I worked on embroidery to sell at the faires as it is."

"True. Father did hope this would help pay for college."

"Don't worry too much about that. Now come help me move everything into the booth. Bran, do you mind helping me before you squire for your brothers." 

He nods, and they gather up all of their needlework to put on display. 

"Bran, I brushed out Warden and Raven this morning," she tells him as they set everything up.

"Oh, thanks."

"Have you been warned about the large black horse in the far stall?"

"Yes, the Hound warned us all not to go near him when we had our orientation yesterday. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Oh no, he stopped me in time."

"Quite impressive though," Bran tells her.

"What is?"

"There you are, Bran. Your brothers need you." Father appears.

"Later, sister," Bran says before scuttling off.

"Ned, how are you?" Mother asks, coming up to kiss her husband. 

"Up to my ears. Robert has everything in disarray. I may have to completely reschedule the whole faire. Cersei wouldn't hear of it, saying she has agreements in place. People are squabbling over where their booths are and saying northerners are taking all the best spots."

"Father, will I still be singing?"

"Of course, dear. Go with the schedule set unless you hear from me. Also, there's a play that asked for a harpist to play at interludes so I suggested you."

"Oh really, how wonderful, Father. What's it called?"

"Dance of Dragons. Now, I must go."

"Bye," they both say.

Sansa sets her embroidery pieces around and sits down to a new piece of cloth as all the rest of the faire is getting started. Her performances will be later in the day, and she'll have to go back for her harp. 

What to sew. For some reason, that man calling her little bird comes to mind. Birds are always popular she thinks and starts her thread. Focused on her work, giggles steal her attention, and she looks up to see some children run by. Oh, she loves the start of all the excitement. She smiles at some young girls passing by, and they stop to take a picture with her, marveling at all the work she's done. 

She decides to take a turn through the faire then and enjoys seeing all the booths set up for wood-carvers, a blacksmith, all kinds of jewelry and period clothing. And there's the puppet show, and then all the different faire food. The boys and Arya of course always have a turkey leg competition. 

Then she heads over to see the grounds for the tourney. She see the archery setup and hopes Joffrey is there. Picking her way over, Sansa finds him with his friends who are playing with swords.

"Joffrey," she calls out.

He turns, seeing her and comes over, his friends following.

"Lady Sansa."

Her smile broadens, "My prince, what a handsome doublet." It's gold, just like him.

His friends snicker, but Joffrey tells them, "Shut up, idiots."

"You look like you should be princess."

"Thank you. I'm sure your sister makes a fine princess."

"A prince should have his own princess though, no?" He means me, Sansa barely contains her excitement. "Look for me at the tourney. I want you beside me."

"Thank you, I will," she says with a smile, and Joffrey seems pleased. 

"Come, I will take you on a tour." He extends his arm, and she takes it. Joffrey leads her much around where she's already been, but people in the crowds stop to watch them and many took pictures. She felt like a true noble lady almost. 

"What time is it?" She asked Joffrey when he suggested lunch. 

"Noon. Time for lunch."

"Oh no, I have to go get my harp, so I can sing. I perform shortly."

"Whatever." Joffrey says.

"I will see you at the tourney, Joffrey." She gives him her biggest smile, and he nods to her. 

Getting her small harp, she then arrives at her first slot and sits down, settling in for her set. A couple people are there, using the benches to have lunch. Sansa introduces herself, then with a strum of the harp, she starts in with Six Maids in a Pool. Though drawing little attention, she just enjoys being able to sing and share these old songs that once delighted keeps. She decides to play a few more bawdy ones, like the Dornishman's Wife, before ending where she started this morning with Jenny's Song. Nothing like bittersweet romance. She then heads over to see the play, Dance with Dragons, and see if they still want a harpist.

As she nears the Gold Stage, she slips around back to get the attention of one of the actors. “Excuse me, sir,” she tries to an old man.

“What a beautiful dress!” Sansa turns around to see a lovely young woman marveling at her garment. If there were ever a thing called doe eyes, these are it, Sansa thinks at her lively brown eyes.

“Why thank you.”

“Oh, you have a harp.”

“Yes, I was wondering if…”

“Yes, yes, you will play for us?”

“Of course.”

“Good, I’m Margaery. That’s my brother Loras there and grandmother Olenna. And you were trying to meet Pycelle. And of course Baelish and Varys over there. Scheming worse than their characters no doubt. And over there's Ros and Shae.” She points out all the actors. “And here’s Renly. Now we can get started.”

Sansa watches as Margaery tests her silver wig and glides on stage. She must be playing Rhaenyra Targaryen. What an ambitious story. To think she will have to be eaten by a dragon in the end.

At the end of the first act, Sansa steps up to the stage amid applause for the actors and plays her small part. Hopefully she’ll be able to grab something to eat before she sings again, and then after that, she’ll be meeting Joffrey for the tourney. She sighs, feeling as though everything is coming together just as she’s hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tourney

A flutter to her heart, Sansa makes her way early to the platform for the royal actors. "Myrcella, how lovely to see you again," Sansa says, greeting Joffrey's younger sister, dressed similarly to him in gold brocade.

"Sansa, right?" 

"Yes, princess," she smiles.

Myrcella giggles, "You don't have to call me that unless you want to in front of the public."

Sansa's eyes flick to the side to see Joffrey's mother, Cersei, approach in her rich red dress and covered in jewels. She does look like a queen.

"Myrcella, are you ready?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Um," Sansa starts, drawing Cersei's gaze. 

"Yes?"

"Joffrey said he would like me by his side. Do you know where he is?"

His mother's eyes narrow, and the assessing turn of her lips makes Sansa gulp. "Did you make the dress yourself?"

"Oh yes."

"It is fine work."

"Thank you. I-"

"You may join us, as that is Joffrey's wish. Please sit there." She points to where Joffrey must sit.

"Sorry, where is he?"

"Joffrey rides in to start the tourney, Sansa," Myrcella helpfully explains.

"Oh, of course."

Cersei turns from her and takes the step up to where her grand chair is, the one next to it for the king remaining empty. Sansa takes her own place and takes a deep breath, gathering her poise and surveying the grounds. A dividing fence cuts through the ring and must be for the joust. A crowd is starting to gather on the benches along the tourney grounds. She sees her sister, dressed like a man of course, testing out her bow. At least she gets to participate in this part. Though, Sansa doubts she’ll be happy to play second to anyone else. In that sense, it’s a real tourney for her.

Sansa looks over to Myrcella and smiles as she waits. Tommen, Joffrey’s little brother arrives and sits by Myrcella. The crowd grows – the time must approach. She makes out the procession making its way to the tourney grounds after circling through the faire. Soon a horn blows, and Sansa smiles watching Joffrey stride in on his bay horse. She waves a hand gracefully at him. She claps with the crowd. Sansa sighs, seeing him look the prince with his red and gold cloak and all the knights following him. To think she gets to be his princess, her smile widens.

Behind him prances a beautiful white stallion with a knight in gilt, ornamented armor and equally gold hair looking like he walked out of one of the songs she was singing earlier. She just looks on in awe. She finds Robb and John on their horses next to each other in the group. She knows they will participate in the melee though not the joust. She’s not sure if they will get to do any of their other horseback acts here or if those are reserved for their show earlier in the afternoon. Maybe she’ll be able to change her schedule one day so that she can watch them. Their armor is not as ornate, more in the northern style, being mostly hard leather. They look hot with the fur on their cloaks, but at least people here in the South will see a different way.

The line of horses swings around and Joffrey stops at the center. The announcer asks if the tourney shall commence, and Joffrey says loudly, “May it begin.” The crowd then cheers. Just then a massive, black horse canters onto the field, an equally impressive knight in full armor and a large dog’s head helm astride the animal. She immediately recognizes the horse, being Stranger, but wonders about the rider. Could it be? Wouldn’t he have said? The crowd sees the black rider and starts to boo immediately. The gilt-armored knight pulls his sword and takes a protective stance towards the prince.

The announcer says on the microphone, “The Black Knight dares to join the tourney. Who will be the crown’s champion?” A number of the knights raise their swords. Joffrey has his horse step closer to the golden knight and joins his hand with his raised sword, and the crowd cheers.

Joffrey then leads his horse over to their platform and jumps off, handing his reins to an attendant.

“Where the hell is Father?” Joffrey spits out as soon as he’s near them.

“He’ll be here shortly.” Cersei says, her gaze toward the crowd but not focused on it, contained.

The archery competition is announced, and the targets are brought out. The archers line up for their shot. Joffrey takes his seat by her, and Sansa smiles to him, “You were amazing, Joffrey.” He nods, the annoyance he had shown lifting.

“Who is the knight that rode behind you? The crown’s champion.”

“Oh, that’s my uncle, Jaime Lannister. My mother’s brother.”

“And the Black Knight? Who plays him?”

“The Hound, of course. Didn’t you see the helm? You’re full of questions, isn’t that annoying girl your sister?” Arya had picked up a handful of dirt to test the wind before taking aim.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Arya hits her target, Sansa didn’t have to hear the announcer to know it was a bullseye, still she didn’t clap.

Joffrey huffs a laugh and looks over at her with a smirk, making her swell with happiness to please him in some way.

“I want you to come by my RV tonight. A few friends will be there. It’ll be fun.”

“That sounds great.” She smiles wider. It’s not quite a date but it’s something. He’s definitely making his preference clear by having her here with him. Maybe next time they’re alone, he’ll ask her to be his girlfriend.

“You have your own RV?”

“Of course, Meryn and Boros travel with me.”

“Is that them?” Sansa points to two of the knights. “Do they do the joust?”

“They’ll do the melee and then Meryn is one of the first jousts in the show.”

Arya is announced winner, and she comes up to the platform to be recognized. However, there is a commotion within the crowd that draws their attention. Sansa is confused to see Robert Baratheon making his way, shaking every hand, not able to keep a straight line as he makes his way past the crowd and onto the platform. He fixes his crown and waves to everyone.

“And who are you little lady?” He says to Arya.

“Arya Stark. I shot the best arrow.”

“You did. Did you all hear that? This little lady shot the best arrow.” The crowd responds with both amusement and cheers. He motions back to Cersei, but it’s Myrcella who retrieves a ribbon and pouch.

“Five hundred gold dragons to the archery champion!” The announcer says as Robert as king puts the ribbon around Arya’s neck and hands her the pouch.

“Look how proud she is,” Sansa says softly to Joffrey who looks at her with a smirk.

“She’s lucky I have more important things to do than challenge her.”

“I’m sure of it.” She smiles to him.

The king takes his seat by Cersei with barely a glance towards his wife. They’ve always been kind of an odd couple, Sansa has thought.

Next is the melee, and Sansa is enjoying hearing all the knights announced, Robb is called Ser Robert the Red and Jon is Ser Jon, the Wolf of Winterfell. She clapped enthusiastically for them both.

“Can you not?” Joffrey says to her, and she claps more reservedly then.

The knights are positioned across from each other, knees bent at the ready with swords raised and shields in place. The start is announced, and the knights charge toward each other. Sansa watches as Robb and Jon band together against the others. Joffrey’s friends, Meryn and Boros, seem to have the same idea. It works for both and soon it’s the four of them.

“Who’ll be the last man standing?” Joffrey asks her. She almost feels like it’s a test.

“Hopefully one of my brothers.”

“It’s all a show, you know.”

“True.” Sansa says. Maybe her brothers aren’t supposed to win. That becomes clear as Meryn bests Robb and soon they’re both on Jon who takes a hit in what Sansa admits to herself looked like Jon’s just playing his part. Meryn and Boros make a show of it until finally Meryn makes a thrust that Boros seems to have rehearsed to miss and then buckles. Jon should’ve won. If he had his way, Meryn and Boros would’ve been disarmed from the moment they faced him and Robb.

The crowd cheers as Meryn drops his shield to raise both his arms in victory. He makes his way to the royal platform where the king once again bestows the prize on him.

“Is the joust next, Joffrey?” Sansa asks.

“First the rings.”

“Oh,” Sansa says, watching as rings are brought out, and some of the knights retake their horses. She knows that part of Father’s deal to join the Baratheon’s ren faire was for Robb and Jon to learn the joust so they can start performing it back in the North.

Sansa looks around, wondering why the Black Knight hasn’t reappeared. Sandor must only be in the joust.

A set of three rings are in place along the length of the field on either side of the dividing fence. As Sansa watches the first two knights, one with a blue falcon on his surcoat and the other in gray colors, she realizes the aim must be to capture all three with the lance in a single pass. The blue knight missed the first but gained the last two, though the other knight was able to get all three, even if slower.

Meryn goes next against Joffrey’s uncle. Meryn seemed to attempt speed, catching the first ring but missing the others while Ser Jaime got all three, making it almost look easy. Another two sets of knights attempt the rings, and then the winners from each group face off. The knight in gray doesn’t have the speed to catch Ser Jaime, so Sansa is excited to watch the final round.

“Do you think he’ll win?” She excitedly asks Joffrey.

“Get used to seeing the same thing,” is his only reply. “Mother insists I’m not allowed to have my phone up here, can you believe it?”

Sansa is too engrossed in watching Ser Jaime face off against a knight in green with a large oak tree on his horse’s garment and his own. They take off at a gallop, their lances steady. Each gains the first two rings, and both are neck and neck. Then the green knight misses the last ring when he tried to pull into the lead.

“Wow,” she can’t help but say, standing up to clap with the crowd. When she retakes her seat, the look on Joffrey’s face is not pleased. “Sorry, just got a little excited. It’s my first tourney like this.”

Ser Jaime is named the winner of the rings then. Now the joust! Sansa can barely contain her excitement. The crowd starts to murmur, and Sansa looks to her right to see Sandor riding in on Stranger at a full canter, his lance at the ready. She’s surprised when he stops right at the center of the ring, his horse rearing up on its back legs. The crowd is in almost silent awe for a moment until his horse comes back down and heads to the other end of the ring, stamping its foot. The announcer comes over the microphone, “The Black Knight has challenged the king’s knights to a joust. First, we have Ser Loras, the Knight of Flowers.”

“Oh, is that Margaery’s brother?” Sansa wonders.

“Who’s Margaery?”

“Oh, she’s an actress in the Dance of Dragons play. I play the harp for their intermission.”

“She pretty?” The question catches Sansa off guard. Why would he ask me that?

“I would say so.” She answers as best she can. Joffrey just shrugs, turning his attention back to the joust.

Sandor’s horse is restless, but the man seems to sit the horse with sureness, his shield held close and lance upright. The Knight of Flowers has such beautiful armor, what an elaborate helm. His lance is handed to him, and soon both knights are off, galloping toward each other as their lances come down. Sansa can feel her heart beat louder as her eyes stay open, watching. Sandor’s lance hits its mark, breaking on Ser Loras’s shield. Ser Loras aims well, but it deflects off Sandor’s shield. Just like that the first pass is done, she puts a hand up to her heart.

The next pass, Ser Loras’s aim is higher, which must throw Sandor off as his lance strays. Sansa’s hands clench in her lap though to see Loras’s lance come close to Sandor’s helm. The next pass Sandor is all business Sansa can tell as he urges Stranger on harder, his lance sure, he has it down before Loras, who’s barely prepared for the blow, the impact hitting his shield square and knocking him clear of his horse. Sansa gasps, seeing him fall to the ground.

“Is he alright?” She can’t help but say. His attendant is there and soon the Knight of Flowers is getting up. She breathes a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Joffrey says with a huff.

“I just thought Sandor could have hurt him.”

“Sandor?”

“The Black Knight.”

“The Hound knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry your little head. He gets to win that round.”

Next, Joffrey’s uncle rides against Meryn, this time in the joust. He unhorses Meryn on the second tilt, much to the crowd’s enthusiasm. As Sandor rides out on Stranger across the field, boos follow him from the crowds, which turn to cheers as Ser Jaime rides across with his new lance held high.

Sansa takes a deep breath watching them face off. She knows Sandor isn’t supposed to win, but for some reason, she can’t help but root for him in some way. He’s terribly rude and looks at me funny, she reminds herself, trying to distance him in her thoughts. The golden knight on his white charger should win.

Still, Sansa can barely watch the first tilt as both knights barrel toward each other on their warhorses. Shards of wood spray everywhere as both lances break, and Sansa can barely make out what happened it was so fast. Each knight gets another lance, and Sansa has barely calmed before they’re back at it again. This pass, Sandor’s aim is just as sure, making her wonder if in truth he will win. He really knocks Jaime, who seems unsteady but somehow keeps on his horse.

“Will he really win?”

“Of course, my uncle will,” Joffrey says.

“Let’s hear it for the crown’s champion,” the announcer calls out, getting the crowd to cheer for Ser Jaime. Both of them take new lances, and it’s just a moment before their kicking their horses back at each other. Jaime’s lance comes down, and Sansa can see the momentum behind it as he strikes Sandor square on his shield. Sandor’s lance shies away from Jaime, and from her vantage point, Sansa can see Sandor let go and let the force of the lance push him off the saddle. Her eyes don’t blink, watching him hit the ground, but he gets up quickly and dusts himself off as though nothing were amiss. His helmet is the first thing he retrieves, standing away from the crowds, she almost feels she caught his eye before the visor is slid back in place. What a strange man, something about him unsettles her.

Ser Jaime rides up to the platform, bearing a rose, he jumps off his horse and presents it to his sister who accepts it. The crowd applauds, and the king then bestows a ribbon and large cup to the victor. “Five thousand gold dragons to the crown’s champion, Ser Jaime,” the announcer calls out. Sansa looks back to the arena, finding Sandor at the right, taking Stranger back into the stable.

Her brothers ride with the other knights around the ring before all bowing to the royal party and heading to the stable themselves.

“This has been so wonderful,” Sansa says turning to Joffrey, but he’s already getting up. “I’ll see you later, Joffrey,” she calls.

“Oh yeah,” he says to her before heading off. Likely to meet up with his friends, she thinks. She sits there basking in the joy of what she’s been looking forward to for so long. She got to be princess for the day, watching a tourney like in times of old. If only she could have give her favor to a knight and have him proclaim her the queen of love and beauty. As the others leave, she finds herself there singing before getting up to the find her family to share dinner and tell her mother how wonderful it all was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the tourney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Joffrey coming onto Sansa in this chapter.

Lifting her hand, Sansa knocks on the door of Joffrey’s RV. She smiles to herself, the excitement of the day still coursing through her. She can hear a loud movie or something coming from within, so she knocks a little harder. She smoothes her hands down the skirt she changed into, something told her Joffrey wouldn’t expect her in period garb.

The door swings open, and it’s Boros, “Come in.” She walks in to see Joffrey and Meryn, both with controllers in hand, intent on playing their video game on the TV. “Want something to drink?” Boros motions to some open liquor bottles, that makes her eyes go wide, and a sinking feeling spread in her belly. She has barely touched wine since turning 18.

“I’m fine,” she says, and Boros just shrugs.

“You should drink, Sansa,” Joffrey says to her. At least he noticed.

“I’m fine—”

“Dammit, Meryn,” Joffrey yells above her. This is not what she had in mind, but she takes some of the amber liquid she assumes is whiskey and pours it in a plastic cup. Sitting down near Joffrey, she watches him play. She takes a sip and sputters at the burning liquid, then coughs.

“What is it?” Joffrey looks at her, more annoyed than concerned. He takes her cup, looking at it and laughs. “You probably need a mixer, lightweight.” He then grabs a can of coke and pours it in her cup.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Of course, princess.” That makes her smile, even though he turns back to his game.

He yells again at Meryn, and it goes on for awhile before they seem to decide to stop.

“You two go get some beer or something,” Joffrey tells Meryn, and they share a look before the two head out of the RV. It’s just her and Joffrey now, maybe he’ll bring up the potential for a relationship.

Sansa tells him, “I was really happy you chose me to sit with you today. I’d like to continue doing that.”

He cocks a smile, grabs a bottle of the whiskey, and tells her, “Let’s get more comfortable.” She follows him back to the bed, and that sinking feeling gets a little deeper. “Sit down.”

She does, taking a sip from her cup and finding it empty. How much was this? Joffrey is there pouring whiskey into it. “Let’s do a shot. To many more days of you being my princess.” He pours whiskey into his own cup and bumps hers with it. She just looks at him blankly, but something in his look makes her feel she should comply. She’s his princess now, right?

He bumps her cup again, and then she goes for it, feeling the alcohol burn down her throat.

“Woo,” Joffrey says, holding up a hand, and she takes it, smiling. It is a bit of a rush. His hand holds onto hers as he takes the spot next to her, his other hand coming up to hold her face as he kisses her. Her eyes close, and her head is all loopy.

Something doesn’t feel right though, and she pulls away from him. “I don’t feel well,” she says.

“It’s just the buzz, it’s good.” He drops her hand and touches her knee. Coming back in for the kiss, his hand goes under the edge of her skirt, making her jump.

“What are you doing?” Sansa says.

“Don’t you want to be my princess?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think...”

“What are you a virgin? Come on.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I want it to be special.”

“I’m here now.”

“Joffrey, please understand.”

“Just go.” He gets up and turns the TV back on.

Sansa stands up, feeling a little wobbly, straightens her clothes, and walks toward the door. “Bye Joffrey,” she says, but he just ignores her. She steps out, closing the door behind her, and that’s when the tears start. What just happened?

She tries to find her way in the dark, but everything is blurry. Hopefully, she’s going the right general direction towards their campsite. The nausea hits her suddenly, and Sansa goes to the side of the path, throwing up. Bent over, heaving, she barely registers someone laughing. No one can see her like this – sick and crying.

“What a sweet song, little bird.” Not him.

She gets up a little fast and stumbles. He’s catching her then, and she whimpers, the tears coming back to her, she shakes.

“Come here,” he says, pulling her close, “you alright?” She tries to nod and is glad he can’t see what a mess she must be in the dark.

“Yes,” she says, though she knows her voice betrays her.

He sighs, and next thing she knows, he’s sweeping her up into his arms.

“What?” She mumbles, her head starting to spin.

“You’re alright, little bird. Just don’t get sick on me.”

It’s not long until he’s brought her somewhere. He sets her down and then slides open the door. She knows this smell. Horses.

He helps her inside, turning the light on and making her squint. He spreads a blanket down and tells her, “Here,” so she lowers down onto the blanket. “Sit like a lady,” he snorts, and Sansa looks down to see her skirt riding up, she’d forgotten what she was wearing. She crosses her legs back.

“That’s a good little bird. Here’s a bucket.” He sets it down next to her. “Stay put for a second.” Sansa’s eyes start to focus a little and she blinks. The spinning is starting to slow down, too. Hopefully, she’ll be alright, couldn’t have been too much, right?

Sandor returns and gets down in front of her. She feels a warm washcloth against her face, and she smiles. “There you go,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says when he sits back. She hears the slosh of liquid as he raises a bottle to his lips. “Oh no…” she says, shaking her head.

“This is not for sharing, little bird,” he laughs. “What happened?”

She takes a shaky breath, feeling the tears streak again. “He wanted me to come over but he was playing this video game and then there was like all this liquor and I’ve never had liquor really. Except that one time with Robb and Jon, when –”

“Tonight girl,” Sandor prompts. “Who’s he?”

“Joffrey,” she says sadly. “Then he like kissed me and started touching me.”

Sandor sighs, taking another swig of his bottle. “What else? Did he do more?”

“No, I like freaked out,” she buries her head in her hands. “And then he was like, ‘what are you a virgin?’ and so what I’m 18 and I haven’t had sex yet.”

Sandor coughs. “How old are you?”

“18,” she says again, looking up at him and blinking.

“Gods,” he swears. “If he touches you again, you come to me, girl, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she nods quickly.

“Bastard.”

“He said I was his princess.”

“Pricks will say anything to get between your legs.”

Sansa gasps, “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I’ll say what I goddamn want.”

Still feeling the strange effect of the alcohol, she whimpers, lying down on the blanket, “Don’t scare me please.”

“Look at me girl. What else am I good for?”

She looks up to see him gulping down his whiskey. That almost makes her sick again. He shouldn’t be so reckless. Remembering earlier at the tourney, she tells him, “I thought you were wonderful in the tourney.”

“That mummery,” he says with more than distaste. Anger enters his half-lidded eyes, an anger that puts her on edge. She doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t seem like the man who was moments ago wiping off her face so gently.

“You want to know how I got this face. I’ll tell you.” The alcohol must be getting to him, how wild his eyes look. His voice though is even as he continues, “When I was seven, I went to play one of my brother’s video games. He wasn’t there so I thought I was fine. Somehow he found out, I must have saved over one of his games. I was in the kitchen later that day when he came in, turned on the gas stove and shoved my face into the blue flame. He didn’t say a thing. My father barely got him off me.” He tilts the bottle up, finishing it. “He told everyone it was an accident. But I know the truth.” He throws the bottle towards the trash can, breaking it apart loudly, so much Sansa winces.

The man seems unhinged, but her heart is breaking for him. His story seems to have sobered her, and she reaches out a hand to pat his knee closest to her, saying, “I’m sorry that happened.”

He looks at her little hand and then at her, she can see the anger fade and the sorrow there underneath. “Me too, little bird.”

She gives him a tight smile, she doesn’t cry, somehow wanting to be strong for him in this moment.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need this bucket soon,” she tells him, trying to lighten his mood.

“Probably not,” he says. “Ain’t too bad. I’ll get you back to your camp unless you plan to sleep with the horses.”

Sansa gets up feeling a lot better. “Thank you.” She’s surprised he’s not more unsteady getting up. “I can’t think it’s good for your liver.”

“Fuck my liver.”

“Sandor!” she says in surprise.

“What are you saying my name for now, little bird?”

“Just…nothing, nevermind.”

He laughs, “I can think of some things to make you say my name.”

“I was only concerned for your liver.”

“Just my liver?” He smirks at her. She’s not sure what to think.

“I will probably be able to manage on my own.”

“At this hour, better not.” He grabs a lantern and leads the way out of the stable. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“I am, thank you.”

They make their way to her family’s campsite, and Sansa prays no one will be up. As they near, Sandor tells her, “You won’t tell that story to anyone, will you, little bird? I wouldn’t want you to.” He holds the lantern up between them, so she sees his face in the light of it, the heaviness of his words taut between them. She can almost sense the threat behind them.

He holds the lantern out towards her then. She nods, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Good,” he says, continuing on. She gets to the campsite and turns to say goodbye.

“Sansa, is that you? We were wondering.” She hears Robb’s voice, and two shadows approach as a few lanterns and a light is turned on.

“Hound?”

“This is Sandor…” She looks to him.

“Clegane,” Sandor answers.

"We've met," Robb says, then directs to her, “Dad’s out looking for you. Where have you been? And why are you with Sandor?”

“Um, I was lost, and Sandor found me. I wouldn’t have made it back without his help. He was very helpful.” She tries to sound convincing.

“Where were you though?” Jon asks.

“Joffrey invited me over,” she settles for, though it doesn’t necessarily account for the time spent with Sandor. She looks over at him to see his jaw set.

“Well, get to sleep, we’ll go find Dad.”

“Okay,” she says and turns to Sandor, “Thank you, and goodnight.”

He nods to her before swinging back with his lantern. She watches him leave for a moment before slipping into her tent for the night.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King's Landing Day Two

Sansa had woken up thinking about Sandor’s story. Wondering really that he had told her. Something in her wants to do something for him. Maybe give him that bird she’d been sewing. Maybe she should ask him first. No, she’ll put it on a pillow, anyone could use a pillow.

She’d put on her blue dress, a favorite, but she’s sad to note the vast difference in joy she has in it compared to the day before. Yesterday, she was getting ready for the first day of the ren faire, and Joffrey Baratheon had her sit by him as his own princess. Now…?

“Sansa,” she hears and looks up to see Jeyne, which brings a small smile to her face. Jeyne sits down with her. “Sorry I was busy yesterday. I tried to find you to watch the joust, but then when I got there I saw you sitting with the Baratheons. And then Joffrey sat next to you! Are you seeing him?” Her friend’s excitement is almost like a window into her thoughts the day before. Everything had seemed so right. Until it wasn’t.

“Oh, Jeyne,” Sansa says.

“What’s wrong?”

“He was just trying to get me to sleep with him.” Sandor was right. She was certain of it that morning. It could’ve worked sadly.

Jeyne gasps, “No.”

She nods.

“How? Like what happened?”

“I went over to see him, and he made a pass at me. I ended up leaving.”

“Of course,” Jeyne says, processing it.

“I don’t know, maybe things will be different today.”

“I’m sure he’ll say something,” Jeyne says, and Sansa knows she’s just trying to give her some hope. Still, Sansa’s surprised to barely feel a thing about it this morning. Humiliated a little, yes. Oh gods, what Sandor must think of her.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she tells her friend. “Want to sew with me this morning?”

“I can’t. We sold so many necklaces yesterday that Mom says I need to start working on more so we don’t run out.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes,” her friend says with a smile. “Has Robb said anything about me?”

“I haven’t really had time to talk to him.”

“Oh. Do you know where he is?”

“Probably training with Jon perhaps. They have their show unfortunately when I do my first singing. Then I have the play I’m doing interludes for right after.”

“It was good. You should definitely find time to see them. I think the public really liked it.”

“That’s great news. I don’t know if I’ll be sitting with Joffrey today so hopefully I can sit with you for the joust.”

“I hope so. Well, I better get going.”

“Okay, Jeyne.” She gives her good friend a hug.

That morning, she tended the booth, giving her mother a break. She went ahead and made the pillow for Sandor, giving it blue trim. She was just selling a set of embroidered handkerchiefs when Mother arrived.

“I didn’t have a chance this morning to ask about your night,” she says to Sansa.

“Oh, really.”

“So, Sansa?” The way her mother is looking at her makes her feels she’s likely to step in it with anything she says.

“I went over to Joffrey’s who had some friends over. We talked. I haven’t seen him today.”

“And the Hound?”

“Like I told Robb, I had gotten lost on my way back in the dark, and he found me and helped me back to the camp.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t any alcohol involved?”

“I can legally drink now, Mother.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes, I may have had a drink.”

“Okay, just be careful not to have too much, okay?”

“I know that.” Her mother looks at her, a little searching. “Do you mind if I go somewhere real quick before I have to sing?”

“Okay, dear.”

Sansa smiles to her mother, and then gets up, taking the pillow, and heads through the maze of little shops to get to the stable. Hopefully, he’s there right now.

She crosses by the tourney grounds and sees Joffrey, one hand on his crossbow as he talks to Meryn and Boros and a girl. She catches his eye, and her hand goes up to wave, but he’s already turned back into his conversation. Well, that’s pretty dismissive, she thinks.

Getting to the stable, she steps in and sees Sandor’s horse, Stranger, at the far end poke his head out and neigh at her.

She hears Sandor next yell, “Will, will you get your arse in here? Where’s the water?”

Before she can say anything, he’s stepping out of Stranger’s stall, looking ready to further berate Will or whoever when he stops short seeing her.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” She says in the silence.

“What do you want?”

His direct tone unsettles her, but she goes on, “I wanted to thank you. And I brought you this.” She thrusts the pillow towards him.

Sandor takes long, sure steps towards her, his brow coming together as he snatches it out of her hand and looks at it. Maybe not everyone likes pillows, she’s starting to think.

“It’s hardly bigger than my head, little bird.” He huffs a laugh. Somehow him saying his little nickname for her eases her worries a bit.

“I just thought you might like it.”

“I’d rather have a song.” His gaze finds hers that was watching him. She knows his eyes are always direct, but she truly feels the power of them in this moment. “You sang so sweetly that morning.”

“Oh, um, I’m going to be singing soon actually.”

“You won’t just for me?” he smirks at her.

“Sandor, I will, I promise.”

“You promise?” He says with a little amusement. She feels his eyes move down over her hair. It’s like they’re talking to her, making her feel something. All she can do is nod to answer him. She doesn’t quite understand it, shouldn’t she be scared of him?

“It’s better this way,” he says.

“I’m sorry, what is?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh, you like it?” She looks down, smoothing a hand over some of it.

“Who wouldn’t?”

She looks up at him with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Joffrey bother you today?”

“Oh, he just ignored me while I was on my way over here.”

“That’s for the best.” He looks at her strangely then, “You came to see your family’s horses?”

“Well, I guess I came to see you actually this time.”

“You guess?”

“I wanted to thank you for last night.” He looks a little sheepish then, his hand tightening around her newly made pillow worrying her slightly.

She hears steps behind her and turns to see who must be Will. “I got the hose ready and turned on, Hound.”

It seems to bring him out of his state, and he says to the boy about Bran’s age, “Bout time. Little bird here could’ve done it twice now in her corset and slippers. Go on water him down.” It makes her blush a little to hear him mention her corset.

“Without you?”

“What do I care if you lose an ear?”

“Sandor,” she starts, his eyes softening as he looks back at her, questioning, it makes her smile. “I need to go sing now actually. I’d love for you to come listen. You can pick my first song.”

His mouth opens, and she notices a strange twitch in the burnt corner. He rubs the back of his neck. “Can’t get away right now. You sing Bear and the Maiden Fair for me though, alright?”

“Okay,” she smiles. “Maybe you can come share dinner with my family after the tourney?”

“Haven’t even kissed you and I have to meet the family?” His eyes take a mischievous glint.

“Sandor,” she says in mock reproof, flipping her hair. “Don’t make me take back that pillow.”

He laughs then, truly, and she finds herself smiling, pleased.

“I just thought it would be nice,” she says.

“What would be nice is to have you wake me up with that song again.”

That’s not very proper, she thinks, waking a man up. Then an idea pops into her head.

“What is it?” He asks. How can he read her like this?

“Nothing,” she says and with a mischievous smile of her own she waves to him and walks away.

She can’t seem to stop smiling as she makes her way to the stage, picking up her harp at their needlework booth on the way. Telling the lunch crowd, “I would like to sing one of a friend of mine’s favorite songs.” Then she starts her set with the bawdy song. It’s always been so silly to her, a bear playing a knight who ends up licking honey from a lady’s hair. She just wishes he could have come heard her, and then he didn’t want to come to dinner. Hopefully, he doesn’t think she’s trying to come onto him. She’s confused if he’s coming on to her.

She heads over quickly to the play afterwards and sits down to check her harp.

She overhears Margaery to her brother, “Guess what! Joffrey Baratheon just asked me to play his princess at the tourney today. Can you believe it?”

“I believe you get anything you want, sister.” He says back to her, but it barely registers to Sansa. That was quick. Guess she will be sitting with Jeyne. It turns her stomach though, makes her feel so stupid and used. And replaceable evidently.

She thinks back on last night though, sitting on that blanket with Sandor as they talked. Even just now, she goes over the things he said today. She might just have to wake him up with that song after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next Morning

“What the seven hells do you have an alarm for at the crack of dawn?” Arya is yelling at Sansa as she tries to stop her alarm.

“Just go back to sleep,” she tells her sister. She had woken her up coming in late last night, so Sansa really doesn’t feel bad. Yesterday had gone smoothly, even seeing Margaery sitting up on the royal platform with Joffrey – she hadn’t let it dampen her spirits. She even convinced Jeyne to cheer for Sandor with her.

Sansa gets up and dresses, this time in her dusty pink silk. It has beautiful vines weaving their way up the sleeves and along her shoulders and beautiful flowers blooming on the back. She decides not to skip the corset this morning and fumbles with it in the still dark morning.

Slipping into her slippers, she then heads to the stable with her little lyre, hoping Sandor has not risen yet. Getting there, she carefully climbs up the ladder without a sound. She hopes he doesn’t get upset with her for letting herself in. It’s a small space, and she doesn’t see him till she turns around. Still asleep, she smiles. So she decides to perch herself at the top of the ladder and with a strum of the lyre, she starts softly singing about Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. The sad song he seems to favor. Though he may say he prefers The Bear and The Maiden Fair, she has her doubts.

She also doubts he’s a heavy sleeper if he had heard her with the horses the other day, but she gets to the end of her song, having raised her voice slightly at the last chorus and still he seems asleep. She keeps strumming her lyre, wondering if she should start singing about Florian and Jonquil when she hears him breath out hard and shift onto his side before getting up.

Oh, he doesn’t have a shirt. She suddenly thinks this was a very bad idea, and she tries to look away.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I’m waking you up with a song.”

“Why?”

“I thought you wanted me to.”

“Do you always do what people want?”

Her heartbeat starts stammering, and her head is full of confusion. “I didn’t do what Joffrey wanted,” she says. Sansa puts the strap of the lyre around her shoulder and flips around to trail down the ladder. What was she thinking? What did she think would happen? She just thought he’d be happy with her. Why does that matter?

“Sansa,” she hears him call after her.

She makes her way to the bottom, pushing away a tear and heading for the door when she hears his heavy fall behind her. Did he skip the ladder?

“Sansa,” he says, and grabs for her arm but gets one of the long sleeves of her gown instead. She even wore this pretty dress! Not wanting it to tear, she stops, turning toward him.

“Now you’re upset.” He says, his big thumbs coming to her cheeks. “I didn’t think you would do it.”

“What? Sing for you?”

“Yes. I was,” he pauses, exhaling, “teasing you.” She hates it makes her cry and harder, and she turns from him. It’s just the start of the summer, and she’s already making a mess of things.

“Sansa,” he says her name, a hint of frustration.

“I was just trying…” she grasps for words, “to be nice.” She pulls out one of her handkerchiefs and wipes her eyes herself.

He sighs, “I know. Come on, let’s get breakfast, okay?” He moves toward her, and his hands find her upper arms.

“Really?” She looks up at him.

His mouth opens, and his hands grip her a little tighter. “I need some coffee,” he says, releasing her. “Stay here, I’ll get a shirt.”

She watches his back as he pulls himself back up into the loft. And his arms, gods, he looks so strong. “Am I okay in this?” She asks after him.

“In what? Your dress?”

“Yes.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I just wanted to ask.”

“What would you change into?” He laughs.

“I mean, I could go and come back.”

He’s already coming back down though, just a white t-shirt and jeans. His hand at her elbow, he says, “Let’s go.” He leads her out back and opens the door to a huge truck.

“Is this how you haul the horses?”

“Drawing the right conclusion, little bird.”

She smiles at him as he closes her door, and then he’s sliding into the driver seat and cranking up the diesel.

They don’t go far, but she doesn’t usually get to leave the faire grounds. He pulls into a donut shop and gets out. She opens her door, wondering if he’ll come around for her, she could use the help getting out. He doesn’t seem to at first, but seeing her hesitate, he comes around, giving her a hand.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yes, just hard to move in a corset sometimes,” she says, catching his eye. She sees his little smirk.

He holds the door open, and Sansa walks into the shop, getting a few looks, but she just tries to act like dressing like a Renaissance princess is completely normal. She’s looking at all the donuts on display and looks to the side to see Sandor eyeing her with a little amused smile set to his lips and a glint in his eye.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, turning to the lady at the counter as she asks them what they want. “Coffee, black. Largest cup you got. Couple apple fritters and whatever the little lady wants.”

“I’m not so little,” she says to him. “I’m quite tall actually.”

“Just order,” he says with a small laugh.

“One lemon-filled please. And a small coffee with cream and sugar, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course,” she smiles to her and starts pulling out a bag to put their donuts in. When she hands Sandor his coffee, he pulls off the lid and starts slurping it.

“You could wait till it cools down,” Sansa tells him.

“I like it hot.”

She sees the cash register then and turns to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring any money.”

“Looks like you’ll have to pawn that instrument of yours.” Her brows scrunch at him, and he laughs, “I think I can handle a few donuts, little bird.”

He hands her her coffee and then grabs the donuts. She grabs some napkins and then follows him to a little table by the window. Sitting down, she watches him, wondering, is this a date? Does she want it to be? What if he just sees her as a friend? He must be older, and he probably thinks she’s too young. And he now knows she’s a virgin, she frowns.

He pulls her donut out and hands it to her and then he takes a big bite of one of his, slurping his coffee after. “Best donuts this side of King’s Landing,” he nods to her. She takes a tentative bite, making sure not to make a mess with the lemon filling.

“You like lemon?” He asks as she asks him, “So you are from here?”

She smiles looking down with a small laugh. He seems to be waiting for her so she says, “Yes, lemon is my favorite.”

“I live here now,” he tells her between bites.

“I’m moving here after the faire. Going to start college.”

“Why would you want to come to this awful city?”

She looks up at him, surprised at his statement. “It’s the capitol. Plus it’s a good school, and there are a lot of opportunities here.”

He sips his coffee, looking at her in a somewhat assessing way. “And what will the little bird study?”

“History and music,” she answers. She can see that amused glint to his eyes he gets. “What?” She asks.

He sighs, “Must be something more useful to study, especially with all the opportunities you could have.” He uses her word back at her.

“It’s what I want to study.”

“You got to think about more than that. You need to think about what you want to do and how to get there.”

“Well, I want to keep doing the ren faire.” He chuckles at that. “You do it,” she says, and he looks at her a little stern. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

He shrugs then. “I should probably stop, getting kind of old. Somehow Jaime keeps convincing me to keep it up. Farm goes to shit every summer seems like while I’m gone.”

“Farm?”

He eyes her, “Yes, the Lannister’s. Just outside the city, boarding, lessons, all of it.”

“Oh, wow,” she says. “I’ve heard of it.” It’s Cersei’s father’s, the premier stables for King’s Landing. She can’t imagine what the waiting list must be to get your horse in there.

“I guess you would have. Of course, your father’s close to Robert, not Cersei.”

“True.”

“You know she’s pissed Robert hired on your family and your little faire. He didn’t even ask her.” Sandor laughs, then finishes off the last of his fritters.

“We run a very good faire in the North.”

“I’m sure you do. Don’t say anything about that, little bird.” There seems to be a number of things he tells her she shouldn’t repeat.

“Of course not,” she smiles at him.

He takes a deep breath, just looking at her, then sips his coffee. She smiles back.

“How are you so sweet?” He asks her. “Or are there some thorns you’re hiding?”

“Sandor,” she says, blushing a little and looking down at her folded hands. “I don’t know,” she says, looking back up at him. “Just the way I was raised. Of course, my sister and I couldn’t be more different.”

“She the one into archery? I saw some girl hit a bullseye from your brother’s horse, nearly at a gallop.”

She nods. “Sounds like her. As I said, we’re different. My mother used to insist she wear dresses and do needlework with us. She even had to sing songs with me. Finally, Father let her start doing whatever she wanted. It’s been a lot of stress relief for me.”

“Always wanted to go up North. Maybe hunt.”

“Oh, really? It’s beautiful country. I’ve been all over of course. We live on my father’s farm in Winterfell. My uncle Benjen runs it while we’re on the faire circuit.” He nods, that glint in his eye. “You always look so amused when I talk,” she says, crumpling a napkin and throwing it at him. He catches it before it has a chance.

“You’re…,” he pauses, “cute. Want to stick a fork in you.”

“Is that a good thing?” She asks, looking at him a little unsure.

“I don’t know what it is.” She’s not sure what to say to that. He goes on, “You sure you want to hang around me, little bird? I don’t think your wholesome family will like it. Didn’t seem to the other night.”

“I’m sure they would like you if they got to know you.”

“Most like me less.” He chuckles, adding, “as you’re bound to.”

“Don’t say that,” she tells him with a cock of her head.

“Might just have to steal you away then. How would you like that?”

“I’m not sure I’d take to being kidnapped.”

“Most don’t,” he smirks.

“Oh, you have experience capturing young maidens?”

“Wouldn’t say that, but if the opportunity arose…” he gestures with his hands, turning them up. He seems so happy, so different from how he can be. She decides she wants to see more of this Sandor. She smiles, almost giddy at him.

“Sitting there smiling while I’m talking about making off with you. Little bird,” he shakes his head. “Maybe we should add that to the tourney. I ride in with you strapped across my saddle.” He’s pulling his phone out.

“I’m sure it could be fun.”

“Shite, I’ve been away too long. Let’s get you back.”

“Thank you for breakfast,” she says, as they get up. He looks at her, smiling at him, and then takes a lock of her hair and runs it through his fingers. She could almost sigh, still she doesn’t know what to think about it all. What should she say to a grown man like him? She feels a bit out of her depth.

“Had to do something, you singing so sweetly this morning.”

“I appreciate it.”

He sighs, telling her, “Come along,” pointing her toward the door with a hand at her back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest of the day takes a different turn for Sansa.

After breakfast with Sandor that morning, her day just seemed full of color. She'd told Jeyne all about it. Her friend did seem a little confused but was happy for her. Just now, she's getting to the play she doess harp for. Margaery is running behind evidently, but Sansa sees her arrive and rush to Ros and Shae. "It's happening," she tells them with a big smile.

"With Joff?" Shae asks, shaking her head. "Not sure what you see in boys like him."

Ros must see her semi-paying attention to them. "Hey harp-girl, you got a boy picked out already, too?"

Sansa blushes a little, "No." 

Margaery comes toward her, and the other two follow. "I hope you don't feel I had any designs on Joffrey."

"Oh no, we weren't going to work out."

"Not your type?" Ros asks. 

Sansa opens her mouth but not sure what to say.

"You got a type?" Ros asks next.

"I don't know."

Shae butts in, "Don't pester the girl, Ros. Are you going to admit your type?" 

Margaery laughs. "Yeah, Shae pointed him out to me!"

"What? He was just a friend last year. Not sure if we'll pick it up again. Might go for one of those pretty northern boys."

"That would be a change," Margaery says. 

Sansa is not sure who they're talking about, but the way Ros is looking at her seems very strange. 

"I guess I should get on stage," Margaery says, and Ros follows her to get ready. 

She's left with Shae, and Sansa ventures to ask, "Who is she talking about? Her friend?"

Shae raises an eyebrow at her but still answers, "The Hound."

Sansa's eyes go wide, and her stomach drops.

Shae says, "I know, he's...well, looks like you know. Looks aren't everything though, pretty girl, remember that."

Sansa nods, letting her think that. She looks up to see Ros helping Margaery put on her wig. She's closer to Sandor's age probably. She is attractive...and she has red hair. She hates the way it's making her feel. How is she such a fool? 

She wants to leave and stay in her tent and never come out. Still, she plays through the intermission and then goes on to do her next set of songs. 

Done, she decides to skip the tourney and instead goes to sit by Blackwater Bay, along which the tourney grounds are. She couldn't get the way Ros was looking at her out of her head.

"Hey, you're Jon's sister, right?" She hears a voice and looks up to see two beautiful purple eyes and a mass of platinum blonde hair. 

"And you would be?"

"I'm Dany. A friend of his." 

"Yes, I'm Sansa," she extends a hand and smiles. She's a little shocked at the girl's midriff showing and an interesting mix of leather and textiles that make up her outfit.

"Are you one of the belly dancers?"

"Guessed right," she smiles.

"Wow, I can't imagine doing that."

"Come, I'll show you," Dany says, pulling her up. "Wait, you're wearing a corset, can you take it off?"

"I can't just undress." 

Dany laughs, "Okay, come see me when you aren't in one. So, I take it you're avoiding the tourney, too."

"I guess."

"Is it Joffrey? Jon told me a little. I imagine what happened because he tried to talk me into being his princess all last summer. I kinda wanted to warn you off him."

"I don't think that's necessary any more."

"Smart girl. There's something off about him. He used to like to feed my snakes way too much."

"Snakes?"

"My three boas," Dany says with a smile and then pulls out her phone and shows her pictures. 

"Cool," Sansa says. "He almost killed a pigeon right in front of me."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"So are you and Jon?"

"Who knows this early, ya know?"

"Is there a good time to find out?" Her own concerns about Sandor speaking for her. Jeyne's no help in these things. She's not going to go to Mom or Arya. The girls at the play can't know, what with Ros and everything.

"You don't want to push for commitment too soon. See how feelings develop first, how much you have in common and agree on. Then maybe."

Sansa nods, chewing her lip.

"You're already onto the next, huh?" Dany says. "What's going on?"

"Not sure I can say."

"Heavens, you don't have to tell me who."

She looks at Dany, then starts, "Well, he had teased me about waking him up with a song again, so I did but then he acted weird about it. But then he took me to breakfast and we had the best time. Then when I was with the actors for the play, one of them evidently had a thing with him last year that was like friends with benefits or something and I don't know what to think."

Dany is pensive for a moment before starting, "Think about it like this. He's free to do what he wants, you have no claim on him. If in the future, things develop and you don't want him to see others, you will have to bring that up then unless he does first. It's a two-way street. Don't let yourself be tied down to him just yet either until it's settled. If he'd rather see that girl, it's his choice."

Sansa hadn't thought of it like that. It makes sense but she just wishes it was clearer. Does she really want to be with him with him anyways? "I don't know what I want."

"How old are you?"

"18."

"You got plenty of time to figure out what you like. Want me to set you up with someone?"

"I don't know."

"Come on, dates are fun."

"If you think it would help."

"Let me see if who I'm thinking of is free tonight." She texts on her phone.

"That's not necessary tonight," Sansa tries to intervene.

Dany's phone starts ringing, and she answers it, "Hey...what do you mean you can't, Jorah? She's a great girl. Perfect for you, northern, proper...okay, okay, you're busy. I'll get you next time."

"I got another shot," she tells Sansa before apparently calling someone else.

"Hey Daario, want to take out a great girl tonight?...no...no..." Sansa hopes she's getting out of it. "Awesome!" Dany says, and Sansa wants to hide.

She shakes her head at her new friend, but she just sets everything up with her blind date over the phone.

"You might want to change, but he said to meet him at the east entrance to the faire."

"Okay," Sansa says weakly.

"I'm so excited. Daario is always fun."

She gets up, Sansa follows, and Dany gives her a big hug even though she's much shorter. "Good luck!"

Sansa changed into a normal dress and made her way to the entrance. She stands, waiting for a bit, until a tall dark-haired guy approaches. "You're Sansa, right? I'm Daario."

She shakes his hand, telling him, "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine, beautiful," he says easily with a smile. 

He starts walking and she falls in step with him. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, just the bar around the corner. Lots of faire folk frequent it."

They step in and he gets them two beers. Sansa doesn't like the taste but attempts to drink some of it.

"What do you think about throwing knives, little lady?"

"Knives?!" she says, alarmed.

"It's easy," he says as though that's what's bothering her. Knives and blind dates shouldn't mix! She follows him to a rough board in the back, full of punctures. He pulls out a set of knives and starts showing her how to hold them and how to throw them.

"Dany loves to try and beat me," he says with s small laugh.

"Oh, how do you know her?"

"Well, we met last year, can't not fall for her, but she wants to do the monogamous thing so it didn't work."

"You dated her?" Sansa can't believe Dany set her up with her ex.

"Yeah, she's a cool girl."

"What do you mean monogamous thing?"

"I don't do it. I'm into open or poly setups." Sansa processes this as he throws another knife. "Dead center!" He cries out.

"Great," she says with little enthusiasm as he high-fives her.

"You have a lot of tattoos," she says for conversation.

"Yeah, check it out." He stops and pulls up his sleeve to reveal a very large-breasted lady. "I love the art."

"Nice," she says.

"And this one," he pulls his shirt up and almost off. Distracted, she glances at that moment to the bar to see Sandor picking up something. He looks toward her, and she sees his eyes narrow. Daario has turned around next to her, playing with a knife in his hand, "You know the Hound?"

Sandor leaves the package and comes toward her. He closes his hand around her arm and leads her outside. "What are you doing here with Daario Naharis? Do you know anything about him?"

"Dany did it. She made me. I didn't want to."

"What?"

"I don't know why she set me up with her ex. He wants me to throw knives!"

He laughs, "Little bird," he shakes his head at her and rubs his temples.

Daario steps outside where they are. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, do you mind if I go back with Sandor?"

"As you like," he smiles and heads back in. 

"You can stay if you want," Sandor says to her.

"I just said I want to go with you."

"Nothing wrong with Daario, he...I'd rather not see you fall into his hands. He tends to collect women." 

"Collect?"

"Something like that."

"I think Dany just wanted me to have fun and forget about things."

"What do you have to forget about?"

"I don't know, just the Joffrey thing I guess."

"Oh," he says. "Must've wanted you to get laid, setting you up with him." He points inside.

"Don't say that, Sandor."

"What? You won't stay a virgin long around him."

"I never said I wanted to stay a virgin."

"I'll get out of your way then."

"Sandor, please just."

"What?"

"Can I come with you?"

He eyes her.

"I'll sing," she says.

"I didn't see you at the tourney."

"I didn't go. Sorry."

"Getting tired of the same story, too?"

"No, I was just..."

"What?"

"Sad a little."

"Why?"

"Not worth going into."

"Does it have to do with Joffrey?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You, okay, can we not talk about it?"

"Me, what did I do?"

"Nothing."

"Then what is it, Sansa?"

"I just know this girl, Ros, who said she was friends with you last year."

"And?"

"I didn't know if you were going to be 'friends' with her again."

He's quiet for a minute, clearly thinking through it.  

"Sansa, aren't I a little old for you?"

"Fine, if that's how you feel." She then goes to move past him. 

"I just don't go for girls like you," he says, barring her exit. 

"You're not making it better. I'm just stupid." 

"Wait a minute!" He says a bit harsh. She looks at him, but the shame hits her and she can't. "Don't start crying," he says next.

"You two still okay?" Daario pokes his head out back. "Got to leave out the front door." He laughs.

"We're fine," Sandor says with bite.

"Sansa?" Daario asks.

"I'm fine," she says.

"Ookay," he says and retreats. 

They look at each other in silence for a second. "Let me think about it, okay, Sansa?" He holds his hand out to her. She slips her little one inside it. "I'll get you back to your nest." She squeezes his hand and follows him back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No clue how my mind jumped in this chapter to Sansa going on a date with Daario Naharis but you're welcome lol! Hopefully I didn't just derail Sansan :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for Sandor

Sansa feels as though she is at her wit’s end waiting for that man. She almost has considered going back to Dany to ask about that other date she had almost lined up, but the other had gone so off the tracks she dares not find out what’s behind the other mystery door. It’s been two days. She hasn’t purposefully gone to see him, hoping he would seek her out. Maybe she should just write him off, would’ve been nice to have been told, of course.

Today she asked her father to take her off the schedule, so she could watch Robb and Jon’s show. All she has to do is still play for the Dance of Dragons’ intermission. And see Ros, wondering if she’s sleeping with Sandor. Sansa sighs again. No more boys or men the rest of the ren faire.

She gets to the tourney grounds where her brothers’ show is and notices Sandor in his full armor trading blades with Jon. Great, she thinks, preparing herself for further disappointment. They’re just warming up, but you can see both are trying to get the edge on the other, making for an interesting match. Jon tries to pull a move to disarm Sandor, much like she’s seen him do with Robb, when Sandor uses his height and strength advantage to suddenly knock Jon’s sword out of his hands. Sansa starts clapping, knowing she hasn’t seen that happen to Jon in a long time. She stops as soon as she realizes what she’s doing. Clapping for the man who’s spurned her.

Sandor pulls his helmet off and looks right in her direction, and Sansa’s chest tightens horribly. All she wanted to do was watch her brothers’ act and now everything in her wants to flee. Jeyne takes a seat next to her luckily in that moment, and Sansa takes one of her hands. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here, Jeyne.”

“Oh, Sansa, I’m sorry. I’m here for you.”

She turns to her friend and hugs her. “I didn’t know the ren faire would be this complicated. We aren’t even out of King’s Landing.”

“It’ll get better.”

“We’ve made dresses and jewelry and planned everything to go from Sunspear to Winterfell and here we are, but I’ve already ruined it.”

“We’ll just keep to ourselves, still see the country,” Jeyne says soothingly.

A man coughs and she knows it’s him before he says, “Sansa.”

She leaves her friend’s embrace to face him. “Yes?”

He moves to sit on the other side of her from Jeyne and leans over with his elbows on his knees spread out, his helmet in his hands. “Haven’t seen you around,” he says. What? She thinks.

“I’ve been around, doing my singing.”

He nods, then says, “Practicing with your brothers some. Will be teaching them the joust here soon.”

“I’m sure they appreciate your time.”

He looks at her then, that challenging, assessing stare he has that has always unsettled her and does so now.

“I guess you’ve thought about it,” she can’t help but say.

“I’ve been thinking. Talked to your brothers a bit.” Still thinking about it! Heavens!

“Mhm” she says, tight-lipped.

“Unless you already got another bloke you’re upset about over here.”

“Same bloke,” she says.

“You’ve got to let the Joffrey thing go. He’s a prick like I’ve said.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Sandor. I’m not upset about Joffrey. I just assumed you were done with me.”

“Why is that? I’ve said nothing.”

“Exactly, you’ve said nothing. We’ll be heading to Storm’s End now in a couple days, and I haven’t heard anything from you.”

“Little bird, don’t get so flustered all the time.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I should be more patient.”

“You should. There’s no rush.”

“I just wanted to know.” She sees her brothers stop and come toward the crowd to speak, so she tells him, “Now my brothers are starting, and I haven’t been able to watch their show yet.”

“Okay, be happy,” he says, taking her little hand and squeezing it slightly.

“Are you going?”

“I’m helping them out.” He pulls his helmet over his head and goes back in the ring.

Robb and Jon split the crowd in two to cheer for Robb (Red) and Jon (Blue). She’s on Jon’s side, somewhat disappointing Jeyne. First they start with their bows, Robb getting the best of that round as Sandor declares him the winner. Then, Bran brings out their horses and they shoot the targets in a mounted race. That gets the crowd going as they thunder past each other, the one with most arrows in the circle the winner.

When Sandor declares Jon the winner of that round, Robb pulls the bow on him, and Sansa has seen them practice this part. Robb releases the bow as Jon ducks off his horse. Robb tries to storm Jon, but he throws up sand making the horse rear, which really Robb is doing and he jumps off the horse at this time. Sandor intervenes at this point holding his sword between them. Bran then brings Robb and Jon their swords at which point Sandor has the crowd cheer for each champion at a tim.e Then he allows them to duel.

However, Robb and Jon band together to attack Sandor instead. The crowd cheers. She smiles to see Sandor parry off their blows, then draw another extra sword from his belt. Then he’s on the offense, taking on both of them. Robb makes a bold move, then pays dearly for it when Sandor blocks it and turns his momentum against him, pushing him to the ground.

Jon takes advantage of the opportunity, coming down hard on one of the swords knocking it out of Sandor’s hand. They face off now, and Sandor circles him and then tries to charge but Jon fakes left and goes down to seeming thrust the sword right into him.

It’s nice to see the crowd react in surprise and not cheering Sandor’s demise as seems to be the case in the joust. I’m sure he probably enjoys this more. Sandor is laid out, apparently not dead, as he whistles. She’s surprised his horse actually comes. Sandor grabs the reins, and Stranger kneels down. Sandor takes hold of the saddle dragging himself on it, at which point Stranger raises himself up and trots away proudly. The crowd cheers, surprising her. “I’m surprised they’ve let Sandor have such a big part of the show,” she says to Jeyne.

“When Sandor showed them his trick with Stranger, they begged him to do it in their act,” Jeyne smiles. Robb gets up and him and Jon hold hands aloft and bow, to more cheers from the crowd and ending their show.

Sandor does not come back out to bow, she notes, but she waits until after to congratulate her brothers on how wonderful it was. She gives them both hugs despite their armor and sweat.

“Jeyne, I’m going to go find Sandor to see if he’ll finish our conversation.”

She heads toward the stable and ducks inside. Sandor’s taking care of Stranger, of course, so she gives him a wide berth. Bran is bringing in Warden and Raven, so she offers to help him.

“Thanks, Sansa, can you take Warden?” She takes the horse over and is surprised when Sandor comes up to her.

“I don’t want you getting your dress all dirty. I’ll take care of this, okay?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I know, go up into the loft and make yourself at home. I’ll be up there soon.”

“I’m just going to talk with Sandor,” she tells Bran as she heads up the ladder. She finds a chair and sits down, looking around. She sees an old travel book so she picks it up. It’s of all the different regions. She starts reading through the Stormlands section since that’s where they are headed next. They’ll have a few days to set up before the faire over the weekend.

Sandor gets up there a few minutes later, and she smiles to him. He comes over to the table and pets down her hair. “You okay?” He asks.

“I think so,” she says with a small smile.

“Wish we could get out of here, but I still have to do that joust.”

“We’ll have a few days off for set up and everything in the Stormlands. You should’ve seen us on the way from Winterfell. Packed in like sardines. Father almost made me sacrifice half my wardrobe. Luckily, mother was on my side.”

“You could ride down with me if you want, just me and the truck.”

“I’d like that, it’s just, ya know.”

“Sansa, I don’t want to not see you. I just think that should be all it is for now.”

She’s disappointed and takes a deep breath. “I guess I can still see other people then.”

“I want to know who and what you’ll be doing.”

She looks up at him surprised, “And I have that right?”

“As though I date,” he laughs.

“I had already sworn off men for the rest of the ren faire as it is.”

“Have you now?” He smirks at her. “Seems like you had a new one every day there for a bit.”

“Sandor, you know I got rankled into that date with the knife-thrower.”

“That’s just the story you’re telling me,” he chuckles. “You seemed to have been getting pretty acquainted with his torso when I saw you. Daario Naharis of all people.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she says, looking at him more seriously.

He sighs, “Don’t start.”

She nods to him and tries to smile more, he likes her happy. He extends his hand out, and she looks down to smooth her fingertips over it before she takes it in hers and looks back at him. They just look at each other, until Sandor says, “You’d be perfect in my lap right now.”

She blinks, coloring slightly, “You want that?”

“I don’t want to push you.”

She’s surprised her heart starts beating harder as she gets up and takes a step towards him. She sits down on his legs, and his arms go around her. “You’re not making this easier on me,” she tells him with a faint smile.

“I don’t want to.” His right hand runs up her thigh and then tugs at the wrap of her dress. He’s looking at her body, and she sees him smile as he loosens it further. “There’s that corset you promised me.”

“I promised?”

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “I love these dresses you wear. I’ve been wanting to do this since you came and gave me that pillow.”

“Oh, really.”

“You doing aright? Your little heart’s hammering away.”

“I’ve just never really had a boyfriend before, so this is kind of new for me.”

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to make you happy with me though.”

“You do.”

“Will you kiss me?” She asks. She could die of happiness at the little light that comes into his eyes.

“Just a little one,” he says with a smirk. His left arm tightens its hold on her as his right goes up her neck, fingers splaying into her hair until they grip and his lips fall on hers. He tugs at her hair, making her mouth open with a gasp. He’s tasting her then and his hand moves down to tug at the top of her corset. Her hand comes up to grab his, and he pulls away from her, releasing her. She feels like she just went underwater, started drowning, and was pulled back up for air.

“Don’t get me started, little bird,” he says, his right hand now rubbing the outside of her thigh.

“I can see that.”

He laughs, and then his lips pull together as he looks at her, “You’re too pretty.” He then traces the outline of her cheek and jaw. She can’t help but beam at him, it’s only tempered by him holding back on his decision.

She snuggles into his shoulder, saying, “I want to be yours.” It feels like there is nothing else she could want, only more.

He sighs, looking up towards the ceiling, but then he kisses her forehead and rubs her outer arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m afraid I can’t keep you here all day, Sansa, I’ve got a few things to do.”

“I do, too, but I want to be here.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“What did I tell you earlier? Wish we could just take off the rest of the day.”

“That’s true. Can I come see you again?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

She smiles at his answer. “And then I’ll see if I can ride down to Storm’s End with you?”

“Yes, just promise not to chirp the whole time.”

“I can sing, too.”

“Don’t tempt me, little bird,” he says. “I’d like to make you sing all kinds of songs.”

“You mean?” She says, insinuating.

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” he says, and she can feel his hands tense on her and run over her, pulling her against him. She meets his lips this time, opening for him as he seems to like. His lips pull against hers and she tries to press into him.

He stops himself, pulling her back a little. “I’m not a patient man, little bird.”

“You don’t have to be,” she says.

“Don’t say that or I’ll take you right here in this chair.” Her eyes go wide at his words. “See. You don’t want that I can tell.”

“Oh, Sandor,” she says, running her hands over his shoulders and chest.

“I didn’t know what I was missing up North, huh?” She smiles for him. “Alright, little bird, you got your kisses.” She presses a quick one to his chest before she gets up and starts rewrapping her dress. She feels so alive here with him she hates to leave.

“Bye Sandor,” she tells him, coming in for a hug, and then heads for the ladder down from his loft.

“You tell me about any boys, right?”

“Right,” she smiles. “Can you try to decide soon?”

“I’ll be thinking,” he tells her.

She waves. “Bye, little bird,” he tells her.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day - short chapter

“Mother, I’m going to ride down with Sandor to Storm’s End, so you all will have more room in the car,” Sansa tells her mother the next day. She had decided that now that she’s 18 she doesn’t really need to ask permission.

“With Sandor? The one who rides in the joust?”

“Yes, he said he has room in the truck when I mentioned we were full to the brim.” She smiles at her mother, hoping her cheeks don’t start burning remembering being on his lap, his rough, big hands all over her. She can’t believe he just went straight to untying her dress, she couldn’t even think to stop him. He almost pulled her corset down enough for her breasts to fall out when he kissed. No one has ever kissed her like that, she looks up towards the sky with a smile.

“I don’t like this, Sansa. He’s much older than you. He seems dangerous.”

“He’s been very courteous to me.”

“Why doesn’t Robb or Jon ride with him instead?”

“I’m friends with him,” Sansa says.

“Men like that are not ‘friends’ with 18-year-old girls.”

“I just wanted to let you know, okay?”

“Sansa, please think more about what you’re doing with that man. You just met him, you don’t know him yet.”

“It’s just a drive. I’m going to bring a book to read.” Her mother looks at her, lips tightening in disapproval. Sansa almost wants to cave. Still, she says, “Of course, I’ll get to know him more over the drive. I’m going to head on over to our booth. See you there, Mother.”

She makes her way to the booth and sets up for the day, picking up a flower design she’s been sewing. Sandor did say she could come see him today, but as much as she enjoyed all that transpired yesterday, she can’t help but have misgivings about him holding out on her. Should she really be letting him do these things to her without them being together? She doesn’t want to be led on. If anything, she should tell him that, and that she’s coming with him. She’s not sure what she feels, but there’s something. She hadn’t wanted him to find out there at the bar, she just wanted him to take her back. Gods, the embarrassment. She didn’t understand how he could say no but not say no at the same time.

After sewing for some time, she decides to go see if he’s around before she starts her singing. She walks in to see the boy Will and him working. When he sees her, he says to the boy, “Take the mare for a walk, will you? Could use the exercise.”

“What?”

“Just do what I said,” he says a little sterner, and the boy takes the pretty horse out of the stable.

“I just wanted to say—” she starts, but she’s surprised Sandor grabs her hand and pulls her into the tack room. His arms go around her, and his lips are on hers before she can start back her sentence. It feels heavenly, and she falls under the spell she was under yesterday. His hold tightens, pressing her against his chest, and she pushes up on her tiptoes, her hands on his broad chest start gripping onto his tunic.

“Little bird,” she hears him saying into her ear before he starts kissing down her neck. His right hand moves lower, too, as his other hand makes it’s way into her hair, tugging it. Her neck is then more exposed, and she gasps to feel his teeth on her, he runs them over her neck before biting.

“Sandor, please,” she says, feeling like she’s losing control.

“Please?” He breaks from her to say, sounding only more encouraged. Proven when he drops down, both hands going to the back of her thighs to lift her up and start moving towards an open wall.

“Sandor, stop,” she says, pushing away on his chest. That seems to shake him, and he puts her down with a sigh. “You can’t just do that.”

“I thought, after yesterday,” he takes a step closer.

“Yesterday, you were still thinking, too. I don’t want to be led on, and this is leading me on.”

He takes a deep breath, his lip twitches a little. He nods to her that he understands.

“If you still want me to ride with you to Storm’s End, I would like to.”

“If you want,” he says.

“Can’t you at least explain what you are thinking about?” She says, feeling a little flustered.

“Why don’t we go up—”

“Sorry, we can’t have this conversation with me in your lap.”

He smirks at her then, and she hates that it makes her weak. Did she even move towards him a little?

His hands reaches out to smooth down her hair, “Did you like it?”

“I did,” she says, succinct.

He seems to think, then says, “You know how old I am? 32. I’m not interested in young, innocent virgins.” She hates that it stings her, especially the almost sarcastic way he says it. “But,” his hand comes down to play in her hair, “you interest me.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a little more hope grow as she looks up at him. “I might not be able to slow it down for you.”

She nods but feels she must say, “I can’t just be some ‘friend’ to you. I have to be taken seriously.”

“I respect that.”

She nods to him. His hand comes up to her jaw, and she can sense him about to kiss her. “Sandor, I need to go now.” He nods, letting go. A part of her wishes he had just kissed her anyways. She puts her hand on his forearm. “I will see you when we leave, if that’s alright?”

“Yes,” he tells her. She smiles then before heading on to go sing.


	10. Chapter 10

“Sansa.” She hears her name that morning and turns to find her brother, Robb. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh,” she answers.

“Yeah, you know, it’s about the Hound. I haven’t said anything to Dad or Mom, but he asked me and Jon about you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“So you aren’t surprised the Hound asked about you?” He looks a little more sharply at her.

“He may have mentioned it,” she mumbles, her eyes going a little big.

“When did you talk to him?”

“Before you started your show the other day,” she says hurriedly, hoping that appeases him.

“Oh, right.” He scratches his head. “I think he’s interested in you. I told him you were very young and inexperienced and tried to tell him to look elsewhere. Let me know if he bothers you. I’ll take care of it.”

Sansa blinks at her brother, “That is not necessary.”

“I hope it won’t be.”

“He is a friend of mine, Robb.”

“Friend? The Hound?”

“Yes,” she answers, opening her mouth to say more but not wanting to.

“I don’t understand, Sansa? How do you even know him?”

“I’ve just run into him at the stables, and he helped me that time I was lost. I don’t know.”

“Just friends?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why is there a ‘well’?” He doesn’t wait for her answer. “You interested in him? He clearly has some interest in you."

“I may be.”

“Sansa,” Robb shakes his head, and the disappointment there surprisingly stabs at her a little. “You were up there on that royal dais or whatever with Joffrey. What happened with that?”

“That didn’t work out, which is for the better,” Sansa says.

“Okay,” Robb says, still looking at her with confusion plain.

Bran comes up to him then, saying, “The horses are ready, and the Hound says he has time for the joust practice.”

“Tell them I’ll be right there,” Robb tells him. “Sansa,” he directs to her, “Maybe we can talk on the drive more.”

“Oh, I’ll be riding with Sandor,” she tells him, tensing for his reaction.

He just looks strangely at her again, “I’ve got to go.” He hugs her, a little tighter than normal before heading off.

She watches his auburn head walk off in the direction of the tourney grounds and is sorely tempted to follow after and watch them. She stands there contemplating before grabbing some embroidery and heading over to see if Jeyne will join her. She had said she was going to wait and see Sandor when they left, but it would be good to see him.

Jeyne and Sansa find a spot and settle in to watch Sandor training Robb and Jon. She glances up to see Sandor has paused watching her take her place. She raises a hand up to say hi, and he nods to her before heading back to what he was showing them.

It's a peaceful morning, still cool, and she idly runs her needle through the cloth, looking up when she hears hooves beating the dirt. She tells Jeyne about Robb’s conversation with her.

“Can't blame your brother for thinking that,” Jeyne responds. “I mean, the Hound is…”

Sansa sighs, “Sandor has been very kind to me.”

“Mhmm.” Jeyne gives her a look.

“He is. I just wish I knew what he wanted.”

“I wouldn't worry so much. See how your ride with him goes.”

“Yeah, true. Has Robb shown any more interest in you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Jeyne puts down the bracelet she's been working on for a second. “I really don't think anything has changed. I don't think he notices me.”

“I could say something to him.”

“Oh no, don't even think about it.”

“Okay,” she says to her friend, sorry she can't do more to help.

“I think Jon and him hang around with those belly dancers.”

“Oh, yeah, I met one of them, Dany. She was nice. Still, she set me up with that Daario guy.”

“The knives dude. Wasn't she going to set you up with someone else, too?”

“Oh, I remember mentioning that.”

“Well, since you can still see other people…” Jeyne says, raising an eyebrow.  
Sansa laughs, “You can't think I would do that after she set me up with her ex. Plus I told Sandor I wasn't going to date anyone for the rest of the summer.”

“Then he's got all the time in the world to ask you on a date.”

Sansa bites her lip a little, “True. I'm just so confused if like him taking me for breakfast counted as a date that time. He would probably say no though.”

Jeyne rubs her shoulder before directing her gaze back at the boys riding past with their lances steady.

“Maybe you're right. I'll give it till Storm’s End though.” Sansa admits. Jeyne gives her a little smile.

After the guys had finished, Sansa couldn't help the smile on her face seeing Sandor heading her direction. He stops to her side, and she looks up into his eyes, noticing a slight twitch of his lip and a bit of uncertainty in his gaze.

“You remember Jeyne,” Sansa says, and Sandor acknowledges her friend with a nod. “Would you care to sit?”

He takes the spot next to her, his arms on his splayed knees looking out ahead of him. She sets aside her embroidery and places her hand on his arm closest to her. He takes it in his hand, meeting her eyes. She sees his smirk form, probably at the way she can't help but beam at him.

“You came to watch?” Sandor asks.

“Yes, it was very interesting.”

“You were over here sewing the whole time.”

“Just needed to catch up on some work but thought it would be nice to see you working with my brothers.”

“See me, huh?” He says, squeezing her hand a little.

“True,” she says.

“Miss me, little bird?”

“Did you miss me?”

“Miss your singing,” he says, a little glint in his eyes that makes her blush.

“Is that all?” She finds the audacity to say.  
Sandor looks down on her, surprised a little she can tell, and the way his thumb starts to rub over her hand is sending little tingles through her body.

Jeyne interrupts her thoughts, saying, “I've got to head to the booth, want to walk with me, Sansa?”

“I should go,” she verbalizes. Instead of withdrawing, Sandor spreads his large hand under her flowing sleeves to caress her arm before pulling away. Her body seems to follow, moving toward him of its own will.

He helps her up, and she wishes he could kiss her right here. He must know what she's thinking looking up at him because he smirks and runs a finger down her arm. “Run along, little bird,” he tells her.

“Yes,” she says, “And I'll see you tomorrow to leave for Storm’s End.”

“I'll be busy loading the horses for awhile so don't come too early.”

“Okay.” She smiles at him, before heading back with Jeyne.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to George R.R. Martin. Just sharing fanfiction :)


End file.
